


Rock Solid

by grey853



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Death of a Parent, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, No sex between Brian and Michael, Spoilers for episode 119, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-02
Updated: 2013-07-02
Packaged: 2017-12-16 21:54:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/867026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey853/pseuds/grey853
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brian copes with his father's death in typical Brian fashion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rock Solid

Title: Rock Solid  
Author: Grey  
Version: US  


Warnings: This story contains explicit sex and uses strong language. There is no sex between Brian and Michael. 

Spoilers: Episode 119. 

* * *

**Rock Solid**  
by Grey  
[Grey853@aol.com](mailto:Grey853@aol.com?subject=Rock%20Solid)

* * *

Michael leaned over and kissed his mother's cheek before sliding into the chair beside her at the table. "Hey, Mom." 

"Hey, Sweetie." She glanced at the clock and frowned. "Shouldn't you be at work?" 

"I took an earlier shift." 

Nodding, she finished putting the stamp on the envelope and sat back. "How's Brian?" 

"He's having a rough time." 

"You knew he would." 

"Yeah, but it's even rougher than I thought it'd be." Michael shook his head and closed his eyes, the vision of his friend in the back room of Babylon playing in his mind. The image of Brian's stiff cock in the man's mouth, his face already slack with drugs haunted him even now. Swallowing hard, he met his mom's eyes. "I'm worried about him." 

"So what else is new? You've been worrying about Brian since you were fourteen." 

"This is different." 

"How?" 

"His dad just died. I can't imagine what that's like." 

Turning away, Debbie stood up and carried the bills to the counter. She took a deep breath, her voice strained. "I'm sorry you never had a dad, Michael." 

"I'm not talking about that." Michael moved to stand behind his mother, his hand at the small of her back. "You and Uncle Vic are all I ever needed. But it's different for Brian. He's never had that. Even when he was here, we weren't his real family. You know how his dad was. And his mom, god, she's nothing like you." 

Cupping his cheek, she smiled with affection. "You're his family, sweetheart. He's got you." 

"I know, but it's not enough. Your real family is supposed to be there for you and his never was. And now his dad never will be." 

"I know." Hesitating, she studied his face. "Are you going to see him right now?" 

"Yeah. He's making all the funeral arrangements. I don't know if he's in any shape to see his mom alone after yesterday." 

"Bad night?" 

Michael shrugged and walked over to the kitchen window, his arms crossed. "You know Brian." 

"Yeah, I do. That's why I asked. Is he sober?" 

"Not that you'd notice." 

"He's tough, Michael. He'll get through this. You'll help." 

"If he'll let me." 

Stepping closer, Debbie's face softened. "Listen, Baby, you being there will help. Just be careful." 

Confused, Michael met his mother's eyes. "Careful about what?" 

"Brian's vulnerable right now." 

"I know that." 

"Grief does strange things to people, even people like Brian who pretend they don't give a shit. I just don't want you to get hurt." 

"Brian would never hurt me. He's the one in pain right now." 

"Be as rock solid as you want, but there's nothing you can do to change that. He'll have to deal with this on his own. You can be there, but this thing with his dad goes deeper than anything he's ever had to face up to. He's going to be depressed and pissed and most of all scared. All I'm saying is just be careful." 

"I can handle Brian." 

"I know you can, Sweetie. Just don't let him handle you, too." 

* * *

The knock banged through the pain, the heavy thuds at the door no match for the ones in his head. Brian groaned and buried his face in the pillow. His throat dry and scratchy, he yelled out. "Fuck off." 

A few moments later, Michael stood by his bed. "You okay?" 

"Go away." 

"You didn't answer, so I used my key." 

Brian rolled over on his side, his body checking in slowly, his mind still dull and cloudy. His eyes squeezed shut, he avoided the slivers of stabbing light. "Why?" 

"You're supposed to see your mom tonight about the suit and the wake, remember? I thought I'd tag along." 

"Fuck." 

"You did that last night." 

"God, you're such a fucking prude sometimes." 

"I'll make us some coffee. Get up and get a shower." 

Brian peeked out and noted the hurt, but ignored it. "Why aren't you at work?" 

"I took a different shift. I want to help you do this." 

Brian closed his eyes again and bit back his protest. Having Michael along would make it easier, but he'd never admit it, never say thank you. He sat up, the world spinning. "God, my head." 

A hand gripped his shoulder and squeezed gently. "I'll get you some aspirin." 

"Don't bother." 

Still wearing his dirty jeans from the night before, Brian awkwardly stood up and reached for the baggie beside his bed. He popped a couple of white pills in his mouth and swallowed dry, the bitterness scraping his throat. Ignoring Michael's plaintive expression, he walked to the refrigerator and pulled out a beer. Twisting off the top, he chugged half the bottle, the liquid burning and pure, his belly welcoming the sweet rush on an empty stomach. 

"You shouldn't mix that shit with alcohol, you know that." 

"Oxy's candy." 

"Just because kids use it doesn't make it candy." 

Brian rubbed his face, his skin too gritty and tired. "I need a shower." 

"Yeah, and a shave, too. You look like shit." 

Snorting, Brian shook his head. "I'm supposed to be in mourning. Shit's all the rage or haven't you heard?" 

"Don't be an ass. I'll fix us some coffee and then I'll fix something to eat." 

"Not hungry." He finished off the rest of the beer and left the empty bottle on the counter. 

"You need to eat." 

"You eat." Brian reached into the icebox and pulled out another beer before heading to the shower. He lifted the bottle in a toast as he passed Michael. "Food for the soul." 

"It's a little early." 

"I'm not wearing a watch." 

"It's going to be a long evening as it is. Don't make it worse." 

"Worse than what, having to deal with all the shit my dad should've already taken care of?" Turning, the anger boiling up, Brian hissed. "The old fuck knew he was dying and yet he didn't do a goddamn thing to make the arrangements. No, he left it all to Sonny Boy." 

"Maybe he couldn't face it?" 

"And maybe he was just a selfish prick like always." Still pissed but his voice softer, Brian turned away. "Fix the coffee, Mikey. I'll be out in a minute." 

"Sure." 

Brian swallowed another sip of beer before putting the bottle on the sink. He slipped off his jeans and jock, holding onto the wall, the world still unsteady. Pain at his temples eased, but the light blurred, the edges of his vision unfocused. He took several deep breaths as he fondled his limp cock, relieving himself and taking no interest. Finished, he turned to the shower, the water hot and washing down his body. Slowly, he soaped up, his cock gradually waking up to the routine, the warmth in his groin tingling through his thighs. Eyes closed, he stroked himself, his fist sliding heat through his spine. Inside his mind, Justin's mouth sucked his dick, his nimble fingers rolling his balls, the eager tongue sending him over the edge very quickly. 

Washing continued as he shrank in his own hand, his cock withering to useless. Suddenly exhausted and empty, he rinsed off and then turned off the water. 

Drying himself, he avoided the mirror, his gut cramping. Sagging down on the toilet, he bowed his head, the spasm passing with several more waves of pain. Nausea rocked him and he turned just fast enough to lose it all, the bile burning and bitter as he retched. "Shit." Dropping to his knees, he balanced himself against the toilet, the powerful heaves blocking his air. Stomach sore and empty, he leaned his head against cool tile. "Fuck." 

"You okay?" 

"Do I look okay?" 

"You look like you just puked up a lung." 

Laughing in spite of himself, Brian shut his eyes and sagged down. "Feels like it." 

Michael kneeled down beside him, his strong arms already lifting Brian to his feet. "Come on." 

Shaking, Brian relaxed enough to follow Michael's lead to the bedroom. Sitting on the edge of the mattress, he let Michael hand him his underwear and pants. "You going to dress me now?" 

"If you need it." 

Weary, Brian motioned toward the kitchen. "Go get me some coffee. I can dress myself." 

"You sure?" 

"Fuck, Michael, I'm not a basket case yet." 

"I'm just trying to help." 

Brian met sad brown eyes and his anger slipped away. Michael didn't deserve his rage, his fierce frustration at feeling so fucking pissed off at Jack Kinney. "Coffee, Mikey. Then let's get this shit at my mom's over with." 

"You don't have to do this alone. I can help do things. So can Claire." 

"Claire's too busy falling apart." Pulling on his slacks, Brian shook his head, the memory of his sister's dramatic tears stabbing at the heart of his own pain. "You should've heard her last night. Couldn't shut the fuck up about dear old Daddy. Fuck. What does she know about Daddy? He fucking hated her just like he hated me." 

"Your father didn't hate you." 

"Yes, he did. He hated his life and I was part of that." 

Michael poured coffee into two mugs, his face grim as he struggled not to cry again. "He did the best he could. He's dead now. You have to let it go." 

"I don't have to do shit." 

"I just meant..." 

"I know what you meant." Brian finished buttoning his shirt and took the coffee, sipping slowly, the hot brew burning his tongue. He didn't give a shit. Scorch his whole fucking body and make it numb for all he cared. "Look, I've got a meeting with Ryder early tomorrow before the funeral and I haven't finished some of the paperwork. Let's go do this as fast as we can so I can get back." 

"You're working?" 

"Life goes on." 

"Shit, Brian. You shouldn't be working at a time like this." 

"And I shouldn't be getting my dick sucked. Fuck that. We all do what we want. I just want to be through with the old fuck." 

"Your mom needs you." 

Grimacing, Brian put the coffee down and stepped to the closet to get his leather jacket. "My mom only needs me to take care of the details. She hasn't needed me for anything else, ever. She's got God and the church. Fuck, Mikey. You know what she's like." 

"I know. But she's your mom." 

"She's not like your mom." 

"Nobody is." 

"That's true." Brian sighed with regret and headed for the door, his body still sluggish and complaining. Tempted to blow off the whole damn thing, he faced Michael's determined stare and surrendered to duty. "Come on then. Let's go to Woody's and then pick out a fucking suit so the old prick can eat dirt." 

* * *

Justin and Daphne? What the fuck? 

Brian listened, enthralled while the kid got the worst advice ever. Shaking his head, he finished his drink and ordered another. He muttered between sips. "Be careful." 

Justin turned and smiled, his face bright and excited. "Of course, I will. I always use condoms." 

"I wasn't talking about condoms. And don't turn out to be a ladies man and waste all my effort." 

"Like that could happen." Laughing, Justin leaned in, his voice hushed now that everyone else watched Ted. "What about you, Brian? You didn't say. You ever been with a woman?" 

"I don't fuck and tell." 

"Yeah, right. What about the CEO and the diapers?" 

"That's different. You didn't know him." 

Justin paused, his face befuddled for just an instant before realization hit. "Oh, my god. You and Lindsay?" 

"None of your business." 

"You did. Fuck. You never said." 

"I'm not saying now." 

"But I thought you said you jerked off in a cup." 

Brian shook his head and sighed. "I did, and the rest is private." 

Frowning, Justin persisted. "Come on, Brian. I need to know what to do. I've never fucked a girl before." 

"You've never fucked a guy before." 

Flushing, Justin smirked, his voice teasing. "You don't know that. I could've fucked a lot of guys." 

Brian met the blue eyes, the arousal in the young face inviting. "You can't keep a secret worth shit. You would've told me." 

"That's not true. I've kept lots of secrets." 

"Name one." 

"That I was gay." 

"That doesn't count. Name one you've kept from me." 

Tilting his head, Justin pulled away. "Then it wouldn't be a secret." 

Brian smiled in amusement and drained his drink, the haze in his brain not nearly thick enough to deal with his mom. "You're a clever shit." 

As he raised his glass to order, Justin put his hand over his and lowered it. "Let's go to your place." 

"Not tonight." 

"Why not?" 

"Not in the mood." 

"Because of your dad?" 

"Leave my dad the fuck out of it." 

Brian stood up, his balance tested as he walked away. Justin followed behind and grabbed his arm. "You can't drive." 

"Michael's driving. I've got some things to do at my mom's." 

"When you're finished?" 

His cock twitched and he smiled. "Meet me there around ten." 

* * *

Justin knocked and got yanked in, welcomed with Brian's muscular body pinning him to the wall. Just inside the door, kisses swelled the older man's lips as Brian latched onto his prize, his hardon aching. He pressed Justin against the door and then ground his hungry cock into his lover's crotch. Soft moans invited more and he led the boy quickly to his bed, stripping off as they went. 

Justin pulled him down on top, his mouth sucking at Brian's neck, his legs already spread and his knees pulled up. "Fuck me." 

Dizzy, Brian fumbled for the condom and lube, his hands dropping the tube. Justin picked it up, smiling. "Let me do it." 

"I can do it." 

Suddenly angry, Brian quickly flipped the cap open and spread plenty of gel over the hole before stroking his own cock, his hands shaking as he rolled on the condom. Justin captured his wrist, his face calm, his voice smooth. "It's okay, Brian." 

"Fuck." Leaning in, he covered Justin's mouth with his own, muffling the plea to slow down. He pushed his cock inside his lover, the tight fit a challenge. Justin bucked up and met his shove, their brief struggle changing to a steady rhythm. His brain sizzled as his spine kept pace, the jazz of fucking taking over. Body revved, he rammed in and out, Justin groaning for more and calling his name, the husky sound of his voice echoing far away. Sucking in Justin's tongue, he shivered as the boy moaned into his mouth, the soft whimpers like sweet candy. The long winding force in his belly wrapped every nerve, his gut coiling up for the final snap. Pain whistled bye-bye in his head as he thrust in to finish, the warping drive spinning him to ultimate pleasure as Justin's hot come splattered his skin. 

Sagging down, he grunted as Justin eased him to his side, Brian's eyes still squeezed shut, his heart still racing. Sweat trickled down his face as Justin removed the condom and cleaned him gently with a wet wipe. The younger man licked his chin and then suckled calmly at his tit, content and quiet. 

After a few minutes, the world settled and Brian whispered, "Good boy." 

"You liked that?" 

"You couldn't tell?" 

Justin chuckled and then resumed nibbling on his right nipple. Absently running his hand through blonde hair, Brian remained silent. "Brian?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Do you think I'm making a mistake to fuck Daphne?" 

"Who knows?" 

"Would you do it?" 

"Do what?" 

"Fuck your best friend." 

Brian didn't answer, his mind flashing Michael's face, his body tensing at the thought of hurting the one person who knew him better than anyone. He couldn't lose Michael, couldn't fuck him and risk fucking up. Justin lifted his head, his eyes bluer than ever. "Never mind. We both know the answer to that." 

Instead of being defensive, Brian relaxed as Justin snuggled in closer, his face resting on the older man's chest. "It'll never be the same between you if you do it." 

"How can you be so sure?" 

"It just won't, especially with women. Most women can't separate love and sex." 

"And men can?" 

"Some men." 

"Can you?" 

"I have to." 

"Why?" 

"I just do." 

Frowning, Justin lay very still. "So you never fuck people you care about?" 

"I try not to." Brian paused as the boy tensed in his arms. "I don't always succeed." 

Justin pulled away and sat up, his hand smoothing back Brian's hair. He took several longing looks and then tilted his head. "I love you." 

"You shouldn't." 

"I can love you if I want." 

"Nobody said you couldn't. Just don't expect it in return." 

Nodding, his eyes avoiding Brian's he settled back down against him. "I'm going to do it. She's my friend. I want the first time to be good for her like it was for me." 

"Then do it, but don't be surprised when it changes everything." Wanting a smoke, Brian extricated himself from Justin's hold and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He found a joint and lit up, sucking the thick, sweet smoke deep into his lungs. A hand palmed his back. He turned and offered the joint to Justin, but the younger man shook his head. 

"Is that what happened between you and Lindsay? Did she get weird afterwards?" 

"I told you I can't talk about that." 

"You mean you won't." 

"I can't, just like I can't talk about you with her or anyone else." 

"Not even Michael?" 

Meeting the questioning gaze, Brian cupped his face. "Not even Michael, not since that first time." 

"Really?" 

"Really." 

Brian shifted, sitting back against the pillows as he took another hit and then another before offering it again. "You sure you don't want some? This is good shit." 

"No, thanks." Watching him, Justin frowned. "Are you sure you don't want me to come to the funeral tomorrow? I could be moral support." 

Mellow, not ready to be angry again, Brian shook his head. "You can't come and you promised not to talk about it." 

"I promised not to talk about your dad. This isn't about him. It's about you. I want to be there for you." 

"Funeral's suck. You're better off fucking Daphne." 

"But..." 

"No buts. Besides, Michael will be there." 

His face flushed, Justin turned away and slid out of bed quickly. He grabbed up his briefs and then his pants, slipping them on in a hurry. "I guess I better go then." 

"You don't have to go." 

"It's a school night." 

"Then go. Do what you want. Don't mind me." Brian reached for another joint and lit it, taking a drag and holding the smoke in his lungs for several long seconds. 

Eyeing him, his face too young to be so grim, Justin stepped closer. "You going to be okay?" 

"I'm fine." 

"You want me to call Michael?" 

"Just get the fuck out. Go dream about fucking your girlfriend." The words hissed out, sharp and bitter. 

"Brian..." 

Knocking Justin's hand away, Brian snapped, "I said go. I'm fine. I'll be even better when you're gone." 

"You don't mean that." 

Brian snorted and shook his head, his face pale and strained. "You don't know shit about me. You think you do, but you don't." 

"I know you're upset." 

"Why? Because my dad died? Fuck that. He was a son of a bitch. Dying doesn't change that." 

"No, but he was still your dad." 

Too tired to argue, Brian got up and walked past his young lover. He put down the joint and picked up the Jim Beam to soften the ashy grit and to keep the buzz alive. "Go home, Justin." 

Hesitating briefly, Justin surrendered and headed for the door, his hand resting on the latch. "I'll call you tomorrow night." 

"Don't bother." 

Brian closed his eyes as Justin jerked open the door and ran out, his heavy footfalls down the stairs too loud and hollow. Fuck. Walking over, Brian shut the door, setting the alarm and wishing to hell his father could've dropped dead without making such a fucking mess. 

* * *

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

How fucking stupid. 

Brian lay back, his hand over his heart, his brain spinning. Michael shifted on the bed, turning around, his face frozen with the hurt. "I should go home." 

I'm sorry. Brian wanted to say it, but couldn't, the words dead in his throat. "Say hello to the doc." 

"You should get some sleep." 

"Yeah. Go on. I'll be fine." 

Michael stood up, but didn't move. "I'm going to stay a little while longer. I'll be in the other room." 

"You don't have to stay." 

"I know." Turning, he walked into the kitchen and poured some more coffee. He sagged on the sofa, quiet, staring into space. 

Brian swallowed hard and sat up, heat swamping his lungs. Sweat poured down his armpits, yet cold washed his skin. Light-headed, he stood up and jerked off his tie before slipping off his ruined shirt. Throwing it on the table, he picked up his black silk robe and put it on. He unzipped and dropped his pants, his bare legs suddenly chilled. Slumping back down, he took off his shoes and socks, his feet finally free. 

Still high, but not high enough, he headed out to get more whiskey. Michael watched his every move as he took a deep swallow. "I'm thirsty." 

"You're drunk." 

"Yeah, well, we've established that already." 

An awkward silence lingered before Michael shrugged. "It's just a bad idea. I'm with David." 

"I fucking know that. Jesus." 

"Calm down." 

"I am calm. I'm fucking numb." 

"Then why are you still drinking? Haven't you had enough?" 

"Obviously not." 

"Maybe I should go." 

"Maybe you should. The doc will probably fuck you all night." 

"Don't be an ass." 

"Don't..." Brian stopped himself, the words, don't leave me, stuck in his throat. 

"Don't what?" 

"Nothing." Brian waved a hand. "Go. I'll just finish this and go to bed." 

Michael stood up and walked over to him, one hand on his chest, the other taking the full bottle from his hand. "No you won't. You're going to bed now to sleep it off. You'll feel like shit in the morning, but you'll wake up." 

"I always wake up." 

"And I want to keep it that way." Michael's firm voice shut down his resistance as his friend's strong arms guided him back to bed. Pulling down the comforter, Michael edged him under and then tucked him in. "Now, go to sleep. Try to forget about it for awhile." 

"What the fuck do you think I've been doing?" 

Michael palmed his hair back, his smile sad as he leaned in and kissed his forehead. "Call me if you need anything, okay?" 

"How about a new life?" 

"I think that's on back order." 

Brian groaned, his chest tight, his head throbbing as Michael walked away, his leaving him the one thing Brian never wanted to survive. 

* * *

Stone cold sober, the world sliced with a sharper edge. Brian winced as Michael slammed the door shut and set the alarm. Worried eyes followed him as Brian got a beer from the refrigerator. "Want one?" 

"No. It's late and I need to get back to the store. I sort of just dropped things when you called." 

"Thanks for coming." 

Michael smiled his megawatt grin. "Wouldn't have missed it for the world. Fuck, Brian, when did you learn to bowl like that?" 

Shrugging, Brian twisted off the top and drank deeply, the liquor like smoothing touches to his soul. He swallowed, his eyes still burning from the earlier tears. "I used to practice." 

"When?" 

"As a kid. Right after that thing with dad. I wanted to show his ass up, but I never did." 

"Why not?" 

Meeting concerned eyes, Brian leaned back against the wall in the kitchen, the beer still in his hand. "What the fuck difference would it have made? None. The old fuck wouldn't have cared if I bowled a 300. Nothing I did ever measured up." 

"That's not true." Standing at the end of the counter, Michael shook his head. "Your dad was proud of you, of your job, of the fact that you did better than he did." 

"Proud? He wasn't proud. He was jealous. Sure he took my money, but he made damn sure I knew what he thought about my fancy job." Brian paused, the pain still swelling up. "Did I ever tell you what he said when I finally told him I was gay?" 

"You didn't even tell me you told him. What did he say?" 

"That I should be dying instead of him." 

"Fuck. What an asshole. Why would he say that kind of shit?" 

"Because that's who he was. Don't you fucking get that?" 

Walking around the counter, Michael drew Brian into his arms, the embrace like no other. "I'm so sorry." 

Relaxing once again, Brian closed his eyes and hugged him back. The hurt scraped the back of his throat, the words too spiky and real. "I thought getting rid of his bowling ball would get rid of all this, but I still feel like shit." 

Michael kissed the side of his face and whispered, "Feeling like shit's human." 

"Being human sucks." 

"Yeah, sometimes." Michael lifted his face and kissed him gently. Then he pulled back and met Brian's gaze. "But having each other makes it worth it." 

"What makes you so fucking sure?" 

"I've got you. That as sure as it gets." 

Brian shook his head, but a smile curled his lips. "God, you've been reading romances instead of comics." 

Pushing away, Michael laughed. "Fuck you. Now, I need to go back to work. Are you going to be okay?" 

"I'm fine, Mikey. I keep telling you that." 

Stepping to the door, Michael called back over his shoulder. "I'm going to call as soon as I get there and you'd better be ready for bed. No tricking at Babylon's, okay?" 

"Wouldn't dream of it." 

"Yeah, right." Michael stopped and turned. "Seriously, Brian. Promise me you'll get some rest." 

Walking to the door, Brian patted Michael's ass. "See you tomorrow, Mikey. Happy sales at the Big Q 24 Hour Clearance." 

"Shit, I've got to go. Later." A quick kiss and Michael took off down the steps, his scent lingering in the air. 

Brian shut the door, his mind still unsettled. Stepping to the phone, wired with too much energy to waste on sleeping, he dialed Justin's number. 

And his number one fan answered as always. 

* * *

The End


End file.
